


We Only Have Forever

by handathepanda



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Torture, Codependency, Dark fic, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Manipulation, More tags to be added, Obsessive Behavior, Psychological Torture, Slow Burn, Stockholm Syndrome, Unhealthy Love Triangle, Unhealthy Relationships, danny is bad, evan just wants what's best for meg, if you like happy endings i would stay away from this, meg is confused, more characters to be tagged when added, writing this as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:15:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23730688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handathepanda/pseuds/handathepanda
Summary: Meg Thomas is kidnapped by Ghostface for some agonizing fun, a brief distraction from his boredom, but what happens when what once was just a distraction becomes too much for either of them to handle?  It becomes an addiction, an obsession for them both, that destroys everything in its path, leaving nothing behind but ashes.
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Meg Thomas, Evan MacMillan | The Trapper/Meg Thomas
Comments: 14
Kudos: 72





	1. Boredom

Danny Johnson was bored. 

There was no other way to describe it. 

He was bored.His mind, his body, his talents; all were suffocating and dying under this newfound boredom he dealt with on a daily basis.

Sure, he enjoyed his task that was given to him.He enjoyed stalking the unfortunate group that called themselves the survivors, he enjoyed going to trials, and he most certainly enjoyed being soaked in their blood as he killed all of them…but before long, it wasn’t enough.

Nothing was ever enough.

So he was bored, and boredom often led to thoughts, which leads to plans, which lead to action. 

What could he possibly do to spice up his time, his eternity that he is now spending with his boss, the Entity? He thought about this question a lot, and as he flicks through his camera roll, looking at his conquests from the trials as blood leaks from their mouths, a glimmer of an idea comes to him.

It is so small, so faint, he is almost tempted to forget about it, but it is like a leech.It latches onto him and won’t let go until finally, he gives in.He thinks about the idea for more than just a few seconds, and from there, the plan seems to unravel in his head, taking over every second, every breath, every thought he previously had in his mind.

He is going to get himself his own personal survivor, someone to entertain him in ways that he can't find in the trials. 

But who is he going to include in this new venture? That is his next obstacle, and he knows he has to think about it for more than just a few seconds. Sure, he should plan, but the more he thinks about relieving some of the built-up tension that settles within him, he can hardly wait.He can only pull this off once, and he can't afford to waste time with one of the few survivors that never quite did it for him.

A guy or a girl?

He mulls over the options in his mind.Men are fun, he thinks.Once he gets his hands on them, they were always so angry, so confrontational, and that was a challenge he liked to face.He would take them, ease them into it, and slowly they would go from the macho masculine man into putty in his hands, watching them beg and whine before him.He liked seeing the powerful ones submit and hand over their power to him.

He briefly thinks about the vulgar English survivor, always swearing at him as he picks him up, feeling his muscles beneath the thin tank top he always wore, as he carries him over to the hook.His screams were deep, full of pent up rage that Danny thought he could enjoy.There were the times the survivor didn’t even wear a shirt, and those were the times Danny targeted him the most, liking how his sweaty skin felt beneath his hands. 

But he knows the Englishman wouldn’t be as fun in the long run, so shaking his head, he decides against him.He was too rough, too primal, which Danny loved in a quick one-and-done, but not in this plan.

There were times he wanted someone a little bit more…fragile.He wanted to feel like if he squeezed someone too hard, they would break within his touch. So right now, he wants femininity, soft skin, gentle moans and sharp cries.

He wants spark, and he wants someone he can truly break down, someone that will be a challenge.

This is going to be for the long haul, after all, and he wants to make it count.

Searching through his camera, he sees flashes of men and women, the same faces he sees day in and day out, the same faces he has seen scream and bleed and die over and over again, but which one was his favorite?

The next picture is of a petite red head with a look of absolute determination plastered on her pretty face as she tinkers away on a generator.Now there is an idea…

Danny always liked to watch her in particular, no matter what she did.She is smart, fast, and strong, everything he likes in a woman, and she has a mouth on her.Oh, she says things no lady should say, and he would be lying if he said that he didn’t think about taking her once or twice before killing her in the trials, especially when it was only her left in the trial.

He often found the hatch first, and before closing it, he was tempted to wait in the shadows for her to find it herself, and at the right moment, he would come from behind, bend her over, and take her like the whore he knows she is. 

She would fight, and he loved that the most, but he was certain he could get her mewling underneath him in no time, cursing his name while trying not to succumb to the pleasure he was determined to make her feel.

He never acted on these impulses, of course.Naturally, any contact with a survivor that wasn’t a part of sacrificing them was strictly forbidden. 

Actually, any contact with a survivor outside of a trial was strictly forbidden, and that’s what made Danny’s thoughts and plans so fun, so tempting, so intriguing.

This new plan of his wasn’t allowed, and he knows he is breaking every single rule that he is forced to follow.

But Danny has never been a follower of rules, and the Entity should know this by now.

So as he stares at the picture he took behind a bush of the red head, a smirk growing on his face.

Yes…

She would be fun.

Even if the Entity catches him trying to get her, he knows there isn't much it could do.He knows he is one of the Entity’s favorites, always getting it kills, feeding it power, never going against the grain when it came to the new rules it threw out at them occasionally.

If the Entity catches him, he knows he could get back on its good side easily, and who knows what Danny could convince it to do? Maybe the Entity could feed outside of trials, and Danny would love to help out with that.

A never-ending torture cycle that he got to instrument sounds like a good time to him, and he knows that this is just the beginning.

Clicking his camera off and stuffing it into his pocket, he throws on his black outfit over his head and grabs his mask, gripping it tightly in his hand as he ventures outside.

His house sits on the edge of the never-ending foggy woods, and he is grateful that the Entity was powerful enough to let him have his old two story house he lived in in the real world, which also came with his basement that he felt he couldn’t live without.

Everything was there…his old photos, his tools, his restraints…

But although all of his possessions are all there, he knows when he comes back with the red head that he will have to make a few adjustments here and there. 

In the real world, he only had someone in his basement for a day or two, never more.He couldn’t stand seeing their face plastered on his TV as the missing persons section came on the news, so he usually ended up killing them and disposing of the body in a very public place so they’d be found relatively easy.

You see, Danny is a greedy man, and he knows it.He embraces it knowing that he wants what is his, his little playthings, his treasures. They were only for him to enjoy. He wanted them all to himself, and seeing their faces on his TV screen always rubbed him the wrong way.No one else should be able to see them, not without his permission, and not when he saw their true face that he was certain no one else had ever seen. 

The human body is a magnificent thing, and the human face is capable of so many emotions, so many of which no one ever sees, and he makes sure to draw those out of his toys.

He has seen sides to his victims that no one else has had the joy of seeing, and he loved it that way.The way their face contorts with absolute pain, and pleasure, and sadness, and agony…

He lived for those moments.

Those breathless cries.

Those tortured pleas...

But then he came here.

He cannot say that he didn’t enjoy it. In fact, he loved it here, but he never got to truly experience what he did in the real world.

Here, the torture and pain in the trials were for someone else, or rather, something else. The emotions on the survivor's faces weren't meant purely for him, no, he was just a pawn when everyone knew who the true enemy was.

He didn’t get to bask in knowing that these emotions were just for him.

So now…

Now he is finally going to betray the Entity, going to go behind its back and see how long it takes for it to notice that one of the survivors is missing from the trials, if it ever does.

How much does it truly pay attention to its pawns, he wonders?

So as he marches into the woods, he thinks of the red-haired survivor with powerful legs and a sharp tongue that he wants to hear scream just for him.

Picturing in his mind’s eye just where the campfire is, he knows he will come upon it in just a few minutes, as he always did. 

It seemed like no matter what direction he walked, as long as he willed the picture in his mind, and thought about what he would find while he was there, he would come upon the glowing fire in the distance.

Deep down, he knew that he couldn’t get too close, couldn’t let them know he was there, watching, but the way that they stiffened and stopped talking when he was around let him know that they felt him there, and that was enough for him.

He has only visited the campfire a few times, but all of those times he enjoyed as he watched them squirm and battle the feelings of being watched as they tried to calm each other down, no matter how wrong they were in thinking that they were alone. 

Danny also enjoyed watching the dynamics of the group and analyzing who was close and who wasn’t, no matter how close they seemed to act in the trials.There were clear groups within the survivors, and that was something he could definitely play with once he got what he wanted from the red head.

As he walks, the air around him grows cold, but it isn't just any normal cold, no, this chills Danny down to his bones, turning them into ice. He knows he is close to the campfire, so he trudges on, tugging his mask over his face in case he were to run into any strangler survivor. 

Though he doubts he would see anyone this far from the fire, having the mask over his face truly lets him be free knowing that he can do what he wants when he wants while remaining anonymous so those around him.

That’s why he had the fake name of Jed Olsen, after all.It was a mask, a cover, to his true self, and sometimes he misses what Jed Olsen was: a hard-working freelancer determined to uncover a murderer.Jed Olsen was a Harvard graduate, a team player, and an excellent journalist.He got along with his coworkers, his neighbors, and when times got tough, people looked to him for advice.

Danny could almost laugh thinking about the advice he gave others that lead them straight into his arms, not that they would know it was him until it was too late.He waited until they were dying, and then he removed their blindfold letting them see that the Jed Olsen they knew was a lie. 

Jed was a cruel trick, one that Danny loved playing.

So here, the mask became his new “Jed Olsen” personality.He could hide Danny for awhile, become someone new who wasn't as depraved as much as Danny knows he is. With the mask, he was just another victim pulled into eternity forced to repeat trial after trial.

But now he smiles, his face slick with both sweat and the condensation of his own breath gathering from the mask. Danny was going to finally get what he wants, finally start feeling like himself again. 

He crouches down as his eyes lock onto a glowing speck in the distance, knowing that it is the campfire.

He was so close, and all he had to do was wait. 

But after all, Danny Johnson really did have all the time in the world.

—

Meg Thomas stares at the campfire.

Warm, red and orange, hot…

She knows this should be a sense of comfort, and to an extent, it is, but it is also the source of a lot of her fears.She knows the campfire is a sign of safety, of relief, and for awhile, she could almost feel calm knowing she was sitting around the warm fire with her newfound forced friends, but now…now all she feels is fear.

She knows the campfire is a smokescreen, a cheap picture of comfort while the real anxieties float over her head like a guillotine, threatening to crash down any moment.The campfire is meant to signal relief, but it never lasts until she has to go back into another trial and bleed and scream, and cry…and die. 

There was so much dying.

It feels like she has spent an eternity dying, but honestly, she doesn’t know how long she has been trapped in this never-ending nightmare.It could be days, weeks, months, even years, not that it would make much of a difference to her.She counts her days by the way her body feels, awake and terrified until she can find a few restless hours of sleep. But no matter how much sleep she gets, she always wakes up screaming and panting once more. She often lays in her tent too afraid to go back to sleep and face her nightmares, yet too afraid to face what is too real in front of her.

The only respite she has is her fellow survivors with most of whom she has grown close to, or has been forced to grow close to, within the time she has been trapped here. 

She is closer to some and distant with others outside of trials, but within the terror-inducing nightmares, she knows she can count on every single one of her survivors that stand beside her, and she is thankful. 

But right now, she is listening to David and Yui argue about some pointless error made in the last trial they were in, and despite it being no one’s fault, they always want to blame each other.

“You brought the killer over to me while I was working on a generator.You knew I was there.”

“How would I know? I’m being chased.I was doing what I could to survive and give you enough time to finish the gen so we can all get out.”

“Well you need to pay closer attention next time, or I won’t even save you while you’re on the hook.”

“Don’t save me, and see what comes of it, aye?”

The two stare at each other, tensions flaring between them that Meg chooses to ignore.She knows soon they will storm off to one of their tents and take out their aggression on each other in other ways, and that is not something she needs to be around for.

So she ignores them, and while she is getting real tired of hearing them bicker, she decides to stand up, giving them privacy until anyone else comes back from a trial that she can sit with.

They don’t even look at her as she stands and walks away, which makes Meg feel both irritated and comforted.She likes knowing she can come and go as she pleases without questions, but she also can't help but be slightly annoyed that they are too caught up in their own little world to even notice her leaving.

It’s fine, it always is, and she knows that once her friends are back from their own respective trials, she will be able to sit and talk with them, that is if she is not in another trial herself.

Hopefully she doesn’t get stuck with David and Yui again, who are now threatening not to save each other on the hook because of the dumb argument they haven’t fucked out of each other yet.

Rolling her eyes, Meg turns and goes into the woods, trying to get some semblance of peace and quiet from her “normal” hectic life.

She doesn’t hear birds or the wind as she walks, but she can feel the overwhelming presence of something that tries to mimic the real world.

There is a coldness on her face that she thinks is wind, and there is an unnatural shriek in the distance that she thinks is meant to cruelly mock birds.As much as she hates being in the Entity’s realm, the ways it tries to make it seem like the real world always makes her laugh.Out of anything, the being that calls itself the Entity doesn’t even know what birds sound like.It is a cruel and unusual punishment for Meg, it seems, but she can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all as she walks, making her way away from the campfire in an attempt to distance herself for a bit.

She always likes to take this time to search for small plants, and maybe even tokens she can use in her next trial, even if she can barely find anything.Sometimes she finds keys or bones that lead to various maps within a trial, or sometimes she finds bundles of various leaves and sticks that grant her more rewards when she survives.She often wakes up to more toolboxes or even a lightbulb to put in an old flashlight when she does particularly well in a trial.

She never knows what she will get, but she knows this is only because she escaped, and she is grateful for the slight advantage she can have in this never-ending hell that is this realm.

But the farther she walks into the woods, the more she feels the dread of the fog settle deep within her bones, within her chest, as she clears her throat, trying to ignore the impending doom that looms over her. 

She has been through worse, after all, and she knows that there is nothing that can get her here.There seemed to be an unspoken rule about the killers and survivors.She knew that outside of trials, they were separated from each other, and as long as the survivors don't stray too far from the campfire, they would be safe.She wasn’t even sure if the killers could come to the campfire outside of being called to a trial.

Though this was technically always true, she would always know when a trial was near when the fog would roll in and she could feel the heat coming from the stare of whatever killer she was called to face against. They stood just outside of the survivors' line of sight, but she could feel them watching her, and then she knew she couldn’t move.She couldn’t wander off, and it felt as though an invisible barrier popped up around her. She always had enough time to quickly go grab an item from her tent, or burn an offering in the campfire, but other than that, as soon as the frozen fog rolled in, she knew the countdown to the trial had begun as the killer waited in the shadows. 

That was the only time she would ever feel the killer’s stare, until lately she thought she felt like she was being watched at other times when she was alone. It only happened a handful of times, but the feelings associated with being watched, being hunted, were unmistakable. But instead of focusing too hard on it, she always told herself that it just another survivor out exploring the woods, or that it was just her paranoia talking. She doesn't know how she could cope letting herself think anything but that. 

So now as she enters the woods away from David and Yui, she expects to be safe, to be free like many times before, but the more she wanders around, the more powerful the unsettling feeling of being watched tingles up and down her spine, making her hair stand on end. She tries to tell herself it is just her imagination like she has told herself before, but her anxieties only worsen with each step. 

Taking a deep, shaky breath, she walks on, focusing on listening to the soft crunch of the leaves beneath her feet. Eventually though, she has to stop, has to catch her breath, but instead of panicking as the intense heat of _something_ takes over her, she turns slowly, trying to observe all of her surroundings.She can faintly see the glow of the campfire in the distance between the trees, but other than that, it is too dark to see anything else. 

The treetops are so thick in this part of the woods, that even the bright moonlight can’t penetrate the leaves, and for a moment, she considers rushing back, every fiber of her being telling her to run.

But she doesn’t.

She remains calm, refusing to run back to the campfire in a frenzied mess because she is scared of the dark, so she turns slowly as she looks around, making sure that no one is around before she goes back to the safety of her friends.

When she turns her head, though, a bright flash assaults her vision.

“Wha-“

Her eyes snap shut at the pain and startling sensation of bright light, and that was enough time for a gloved hand to cover her mouth and pull her back roughly against a broad chest of a man breathing slowly behind her.He grabs her face with one hand, digging his fingers into her cheeks, as he effectively traps both of her wrists in his other huge hand.

Through muffled cries, she begins thrashing, trying to get away from whoever this is, and for a moment she thinks, or rather she hopes, it is one of her friends playing a cruel trick on her, but as seconds pass and the grip on both her face and her wrists become so tight, it is borderline painful, tears begin to well in her eyes.

She knows this isn’t a survivor.

“I wouldn’t fight back much if I were you, sweetheart,” a deep voice growls in her ear.“I can make this a lot more painful than it needs to be.”

Meg pauses for a moment, not recognizing the voice as she feels her world come crumbling down around her.She can see the campfire, she can almost see the faint outlines of her friends sitting, probably still arguing, but the louder she tries to scream, the harder the man’s hand clamps down making it so her screams are so muffled, they travel nowhere.They die before they leave her mouth until eventually she can hardly breathe.Her screams get caught in her throat and mix with tears as the realization hits her.

Her friends can’t hear her.

Can’t see her.

Can’t save her.

She begins thrashing again like a wild animal, trying to get away, break free from the vice-like grip that ensnares her wrists.She can almost feel bruises already beginning to form but she doesn’t care, she just needs to get away, needs to…

If she can just get out of his grip, she can run.She’s fast, she could make it…

She hears a chuckle resound from deep within the man’s chest behind her before he speaks. 

“But I suppose I am feeling generous today,” he mumbles more to himself than to Meg, his voice so nonchalant as though he were talking about the weather.Meg is about to scream again until she feels the gloved hand let go of her wrists and sharply press on a point in her neck, instantly making her feel weak as the world spins around her. 

She falls limply to her knees causing a shooting pain to radiate up her spine before she hits the ground completely.Her world starts fading and she tries to hold on, tries to fight it, but the more she blinks, the heavier her eyelids get as she sees two black boots walk in front of her. 

“Ah, there we go.Much better.”

Another blinding flash.

Ghostface squats down in front of her, waving his camera in his free hand. 

"Why..." she begins to ask before she is cut off by another flash of the camera. Digging her hands into the ground and feeling dirt cake beneath her nails, she tries to push herself back up despite her head still spinning and her eyes trying to adjust back to the darkness. Deep down she knows it is useless, but she tries anyway ignoring the crushing weight she feels in her chest, and honestly, she has never been more terrified in her life. "Just leave me the fuck alone," she grunts, her voice cracking and sounding way less intimidating than she wanted it to. 

Ghostface shakes his head and tsks as he stands back up for a moment and looks around, seemingly ignoring Meg's feeble attempt at pushing herself up, trying to get ready to run away back to the safety of the campfire. 

"I knew you had a mouth on you, but I didn't expect such vulgarity already. Honey, we are just getting started," Ghostface says, leaning down closer to her. The mocking white mask is the last thing she sees before he brings his elbow down hard on her head, making her world go black.

—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh...I really don't know where this came from but wow, I'm excited lmao. I guess this ventured from an unexpected burst of writer's block from my other long fic I'm working on, and now I'm invested. Since it seems that I am working on two WIP long fics now, I will try to update this at least once every two weeks or so, as with my other fic, so we will see what happens <3


	2. Bonding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Graphic depiction of violence, blood, and torture.  
> I posted these in tags to the story, but felt I wanted to address them once more here. I also feel I need to add the Dead Dove: Do Not Eat tag because honestly…this isn’t a healthy, happy story. Everything portrayed is as unhealthy as you can get. Viewer discretion advised.

Freezing, hard, unyielding concrete.

That is the first thing Meg feels beneath her as she lets out a dry groan.Her head lulls to the side as she begins to wake up, blinking several times trying to see where she is through blurred vision.

As her eyes slowly adjust to her surroundings, the next thing she feels is how her head doesn’t just hurt, it feels like it is exploding in time with her heart beat.Looking around while blinking back tears that pool in her eyes, she sees spots in her vision that she tries her best to ignore while thinking about where she could possibly be.

A single red light hangs from the center of the ceiling illuminating the tiny room, casting an eerie glow that threatens to engulf Meg’s very being as she sits against cold concrete on all sides of her. 

With the threat of being trapped and the pain in her head becoming becoming almost too much, she heaves over as all of her measly breakfast comes back up and splashes against the cold floor.Kicking her feet in front of her in an attempt to get away from the mess, she doesn’t make it far due to what she now realizes is scratchy, rough rope that binds her hands uncomfortably above her head.She twists her hands in any position that she can think of, but the more she moves, the tighter the rope seems to become.

With her wrists already red and raw, she gives up for a minute, letting out a huff of frustration.

Breathing deep, filling her lungs with as much oxygen as she can, she lets out her breath slowly trying to will her nerves to not start acting up.

Not that it makes much of a difference to her now.

As she closes her eyes, she tries not to think about how her head pounds so violently against her skull and how her mouth feels like sandpaper.Instinctively, she tries to swallow any moisture that she could muster, only to be met with absolute dryness.So instead she cracks her eyes open and looks around, thinking about where she is and what she could possibly do.

The room she is in is tiny, so tiny she wonders if she could touch the other wall with her toes if she just laid down straight.Not that she could anyway due to her arms being forced above her head painfully, but the size of the room makes it seem like it is closing in on itself no matter where she looks.

Where is she?

Anxiety bubbles within her chest and despite knowing she won’t be able to get anywhere, she thrashes against the rope that binds her hands for a few moments, hoping that the restraints will give just a little…

But instead they tighten, causing her hands the tingle with a thousand tiny needles at the loss of feeling as the blood flow is cut off.

With another tug, she yells out in frustration and kicks the ground in front of her before stopping, her chest heaving up and down.

Think…just think.

She doesn’t remember much about what happened before waking up in this dank room, so she tries to remember anything despite her head pounding and her heart squeezing in her chest.

She was at the campfire, listening to David and Yui argue…

_What was the argument about?_

Then she took a walk.

_That’s nothing new._

But she strayed a little bit too far and then…

Flash.

White blinding light.

Powerful hands and painful grips on her arms.

_“I am feeling generous today…”_

Ghostface’s taunting exaggerated mask flashes before her eyes and she gasps, her eyes flying open and darting around the empty room.She is still alone, and she doesn’t know if that is a good or bad thing, not yet anyway. 

Trying her best to calm her racing heart, she takes in a shaky breath, holds it for a moment, and lets it out slowly while closing her eyes.

Think, Meg.

She needs to think.

Her friends must have noticed she was gone by now, she hopes, although she doesn’t know quite how long she has been out, but it has to be longer than any trial.If David and Yui paid any attention, that they would realize something was wrong when she never came back.

She knows that they can’t start a trial without being near the campfire, they all know that much, and usually they can’t get too far away before they see it again…

So where exactly is she?

Her stomach bubbles and her chest feels heavy when she realizes she has no idea how she could have even gotten this far from the campfire, let alone in some strange looking cellar. The odd times the survivors had downtime, it was a favorite pastime for Meg and her few close friends to try and explore.They would stay in sight of the campfire, usually, but there was a time or two they strayed just a little bit too far and then they would see the campfire in the distance in front of them once more.

That’s when they knew this was a never-ending forest.They couldn’t get lost, and they couldn’t leave.No matter how much they tried or hoped or prayed, it all fell on deaf ears of whatever entity or god is in charge of this horrid world they are now a part of, and out of anything, Meg is positive they never found a cellar or house or even a cabin, so where is she?

Swallowing excess saliva that pools in the back of her mouth, she calls out, her voice cracking, “Hello?” 

The heavy metal door in front of her is shut tight, but maybe, just maybe someone was on the other side of the door.Maybe Ghostface was on the other side of the door, or maybe there were multiple people… “If you’re there, you better let me go, or you’ll be sorry!”

Her voice cracks and sounds small even to her ears, and she can’t shake the pathetic feeling that works its way into her chest.Shaking her head, she tries to will her strength back so she can call out again, but realizes that she doesn’t need to as she hears heavy footsteps walk towards the door.It sounds like they are walking down a set of stairs and down a long hallway towards her and finally stop just on the other side of the door.

Regret fills Meg’s mind at calling out as she starts to see black spots in her vision from the fear that infiltrates her very soul.With years spent here being killed, chased, tortured, bloody and bruised, she thought that she could handle Ghostface, yell at him and make it known that he needs to let her go, but as soon as she hears the metallic clang of keys she can hardly breathe.

The door opens with a loud bang and the juxtaposition of stark light that streams in behind Ghostface into the dark red room blinds Meg as she tries to look at him through squinted eyes.

She tries to talk, tries to scream at him, but no matter how much she wants her voice to work, her throat closes up and she can’t find the right words as he steps in closing the door behind him, leaving them in darkness once more.

Ghostface looks almost the same as he did in the trials, not particularly tall, but definitely taller than Meg, and wider than her too.He still wears the cruel mocking laughing mask that he wore in the trials, and somehow it feels like they are breaking every single unspoken rule that was always laid out before them.

Sure, the Entity never gave them a rulebook to follow, but seeing killers outside of a trial was something the survivors almost knew couldn’t happen, shouldn’t happen.They had their campfire and the killers went wherever they did afterwards.That wasn’t something the survivors needed to know or really wanted to think about.

They just wanted to bask in the tense peace of being outside of a trial, trying not to succumb to the overwhelming anxiety of knowing another could come at any point. 

But now Ghostface stands in front of her, looking down, breathing quietly as though studying her as much as she is studying him.Although she never got a good look at him due to his baggy cloak he always wore, she knows he is strong, and whether it was due to the Entity’s powers or not, he was stronger than her; she knew that at least.But right now, he’s not wearing his cloak.He is in a black sweater that hugs at his toned chest and arms, and black jeans with black boots. 

If the situation weren’t so dire, Meg could almost laugh at how much he looks like a teenager, or a dad on Halloween, only putting the bare minimum into a costume, but she knows that he is nothing to be laughed at, no matter how ridiculous he may look in his over exaggerated mask and dark outfit.

He takes a step towards her, snapping Meg out of her thoughts, making her kick at the ground in front of her, splashing in just a little bit in the vomit on the ground from earlier.The sound makes his face turn towards the puddle and back at her, and then she hears a dark chuckle come from the man in front of her.

“Well, didn’t think you’d make a mess without me,” he says, sitting down on the ground across from Meg, pulling his knees up to his chest.His voice is deeper than she would have ever imagined it to be, and she can’t help but be shocked at finally realizing that the killers can actually talk.

When he attacked her, she didn’t even think that it could have been him, or thought that he was actually speaking to her, but now, seeing him with sitting across from her like a casual friend, talking to her makes every single hair on her body stand on edge.

“What do you want?” She settles on asking, furiously blinking back hot tears from her eyes.She won’t be weak.She can’t be weak.

She will be strong, just like how she is in trials, and she will get through this. 

“Ah, wanting to skip straight towards the action I see! But where’s the fun in that without a little foreplay, huh?

Meg’s stomach sinks as she twists away from him, trying to get as close to the wall as she can at those words, and her actions only make Ghostface stop for a moment before he looks at her and puts a hand to his chest.

“Wait, did you think I meant…ha!” he lets out a loud laugh before continuing, “No, my dear, you don’t need to be worried about _that_! No, I don’t need to force that from you…well at least not yet.”

“Then what do you want?” Meg shouts as her stomach flips at the implication of his last words.

_‘Not yet.’_

“To get to know you, is that so bad?”

Meg swallows thickly, her eyes darting around frantically trying to find an escape that proves to be unsuccessful.

“Come on now, can’t we get to know each other a little? Just you and me, huh?”

“Why would I ever want to do that?” Meg spits at him, doing her best to glare daggers at him through her hair that hangs in her face and curls on her forehead, damp with both sweat and blood from where he hit her.

“Oh, sweetheart, you seem to be under the impression that you have any say in this matter,” Ghostface lets out a loud laugh before he stomps his feet on the floor and leans forward, resting his arms on his bent knees.“Come on, we can start easy.What’s your name?”

Meg’s mouth twitches into a disgusted sneer as she stares at the man in front of her.

“What’s your name?” she retorts sniffling quietly to herself.If he’s going to ask her questions, she may as well ask him too.

“Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.I never said I can’t be a fair man,” Ghostface finishes his sentence with a shrug.“So what’ll it be, doll?”

Meg saying her name is at the tip of her tongue, it would be so easy, and unfortunately for her, he’s right.She really isn’t in a place to argue or even have a choice as she sits in her own filth, hands tied painfully above her as every bone in her body seems to ache. 

But then again, Meg never gave up so easily when it came to a challenge, and despite how her body shakes with fear and her mind throbs, she isn’t going to give him what he wants, no matter what.

She can handle this.She lives and dies within trials every day of her life, she can handle him outside of a trial…

After all, what’s the worst he could do? He can’t kill her…can he?

So instead of telling him her name, she spits in his direction, a glob of spit mixed with the blood that drips slowly down her face and a tinge of vomit, sneering at him for even insinuating that she be compliant with him.

No.

He always had all the power in the trials, and as much as Meg doesn’t want to admit it, he has the power here too, but she won’t make it easy.

She refuses to give in.

Ghostface doesn’t even react as his mocking mask drips with her spit and even through the mask, she can see the gears turning in his head, calculating what to do next. 

Raising a hand slowly, he wipes one particular drop from his face and rubs the spit between his fingers until it evaporates quickly.

“Well, that wasn’t nice, was it? We can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way.Either one is fine with me after all.”

“Why would I ever make anything easy for you?” Meg spits out before she can tell herself to just be quiet. 

At that, she doesn’t know what she expects from Ghostface, maybe an answer to her question, a laugh, or even just a snarky comment like he has been doing for awhile now, but instead he simply stares at her.

He stares at her, sitting as still as a statue with the only confirmation that he is still alive being his chest moving up and down so slowly in time with his breathing.His stare continues for far too long than what would be comfortable for Meg, not that anything in this situation is comfortable, but as the seconds turn into minutes, sweat begins to bead and fall down her forehead, dropping onto her legs that are tucked up towards her chest.

This has to be some intimidation tactic, something to make her break and just say her name, right?

She won’t give in, though, no, she will sit and stare at him for as long as he looks at her even though all she wants in this moment is for him to do something.

_Anything._

That is until he gets up.

He pushes up off the ground slowly, so slowly that if Meg concentrates, she can see the light cast shadows over every single one of his muscles as he moves as her eyes follow his movements. He casts a shadow over her, blocking her from the light making her feel even smaller than she thought possible as her heart rate picks up and an involuntary whimper escapes her lips.

What could he possibly do? Her eyes dart around looking around for something to protect herself, some way to get out from this, but there’s nothing, and with each second feeling like an hour, she almost feels ready to pass out from the fear.

She used to think the trials were bad, but at least there she knew what to expect.She knew what was expected of her and what to do, and as much as she hated the suffering and pain and death, at least it was something she knew was coming.

But this…this is completely unpredictable, and she has never been more terrified.

Ghostface tilts his head as he stares, but instead of taking a step closer like she thinks, he turns around and leaves the room, shutting the heavy door behind him with a loud slam.

Listening for the lock, she doesn’t hear it click which makes her feel even worse about her situation.

The door is unlocked.

She could run away if she could get out, but as she now thrashes against the rope binding her to the wall, she can’t move. 

She can’t run.

And she’s stuck, knowing freedom is so close and yet, there she stays.

Surprisingly enough, the desperation and fear that overtook her before starts to turn cold in her blood, as white white white anger bubbles deep in her chest and in her head at the situation she’s in now.

Angry tears burn her eyes as she closes them, squeezing out the tears that brim her eyes, letting them burn a trail down her face.How did she get here?

How did she get in this realm?

She tries to think about her last day where everything was normal, and even that is fuzzy.Her heart hurts in her chest as she tries to recall what brought her here, or even what her day was like when she was taken.

Waking up early, like always, she wanted to go on a run before she went to her job, right?

Or was it school…

No, she graduated but never signed up for college classes because her mom’s medical bills.

Her breathing stops.

Her mom…

At that thought, her heart doesn’t just hurt, it shatters when she realizes she doesn’t even remember what her mom looks like anymore, and as much as Meg tries to think, she can’t even begin to imagine what her voice sounded like or how she used to look or anything about her mother except that she was sick.

Her own mother has become so distant in her mind to where she only remembers she was sick.Meg twists her head to the side trying to wipe her nose on her raised arm thinking about how much she has forgotten about her past life.How could she forget so much?

Was it her fault? Was it the Entity’s fault?

Taking a deep breath in, she tries to get her thoughts back on track, away from her mom to the day that she was taken, her last day on Earth. 

When her mom got sick, she got a full-time job helping with bills. 

Where did she work?

It must have been retail or…

She doesn’t remember.

“Fuck!” Meg screams on the top of her lungs, banging her back against the wall out of absolute anger at not holding onto the memories from her past life.No matter how hard she tries, nothing was coming to mind, almost like all of her experiences here filled up her mind and pushed anything out that she would want to remember.

What did she normally do before work? Run.

She knows that much.

Running was her hobby, and as much as it has become her main defense here, she still enjoys it. 

All she did was go on a run, and then she ended up here, stuck for what seems like years and now…

Now she is trapped by someone who has made it their mission to kill them day in and day out.

But why is she here? What purpose would she ever have to be here?

Her thoughts are interrupted by the door opening and Ghostface’s back turned to her. Blinking back tears, she sees that he is dragging in what looks like a small serving cart but she can’t see what is on it from this angle, but her tears keep coming when she starts thinking about the possibilities.

The anger she feels only grows more intense with the fear, and she tells herself she has to stay strong, whatever that word meant nowadays.

Sure, she could give in easily, tell him her name, cooperate with him no matter what, but what would that bring her?

What difference would it make if she made this harder for him, made it so he got so frustrated and angry at her, that maybe he’ll just let her go.She’s not there for any reason, she assumes, other than some sick and twisted game outside of the already horrid trials.

If she fights him, she knows she will at least have her own dignity in tact, whether that means anything or not, but as it always was in the trials, fighting their way out using any means necessary meant everything.

The cart Ghostface wheels in look harmless at first, and it even has a squeaky wheel that causes the sound to reverberate around the walls , making the high-pitched sound a lot louder in Meg’s ears than it would normally be were they not in a cement encased room.

He rolls the cart to the center of the room, and the contents on top of it are just out of Meg’s line of sight from where she sits, but she knows it can’t be good, and Ghostface parades around the cart, closing the door with a flick of his wrist as he practically skips back to the cart. 

“You see, I’m glad you chose to be difficult.Honestly, I didn’t expect any less from you, and I would have been so disappointed if you told me everything I want to know all at once.You see, where’s the fun in that?” Ghostface says, his voice low. 

Meg’s teeth start to clatter as she glares up at him, trying to mask the fear that suddenly overtakes everything she felt.It overtakes the anger, the disappointment, everything.

“W-what’s on the cart?” She manages to stutter out, trying to sound demanding despite every single fiber in her being collapsing under the weight of Ghostface’s presence. 

“There really is no patience with you, is there?” He says staring at the contents on the cart.He hovers his hand over it, waving it slowly from side to side, covering every inch of the table as Meg can only wait and watch at what he is doing, or what is he going to pick up.

Eventually, he picks up a small looking knife, nothing too threatening, but the very sight of it within his grasp is enough to have Meg pulling against her restraints as he takes a step towards her.

He begins playing with the knife like it is a toy, flipping it though his fingers and throwing it from hand to hand as he stands in front of Meg, encompassing her within his shadow, but unlike the other times, this time it feels so much different with a weapon in his hand.

“As to what is on the cart, I’m hoping some of the things may…persuade you to open up to me.After all, the more you open up, the more you’ll find I’m an understanding man.Care to give it a try now?”

It feels like Meg’s mouth is sewn shut with the way she stares at the knife and can’t even get her mouth to say anything, nothing in response, and nothing in protest. She just stares at the knife, picturing all the times he has used a similar one on her and her friends in the trial, stabbing it into their back before taking a humiliating picture of them bleeding and dying under him…

Does he still have those?

Ghostface brings the cold knife up to Meg’s wrist and presses so softly into her flesh, enough to make it sting, but not enough to actually break the skin.He starts moving the knife up and down her arm, a warning on what’s to come if she doesn’t answer, doesn’t cooperate.

Suddenly, all of her bravery from before seems to vanish, and with the knife pressed to her arm, she wants to tell him everything he wants to know, she doesn’t want to feel any more pain…

But no…

She closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath, fighting every urge to look at him as she tells herself that she needs to be strong.

She can be strong.

She has been through worse, she can handle whatever he throws at her.

“We can start off easy again since I am such a gracious host, I know, no need to thank me,” he breathes out in a way that makes Meg think he is almost getting off to her absolute terror in front of him.His breath hitches just slightly and makes his voice waver, but he continues anyway.“So, doll, what’s your name? What can I call you? I’d hate to be impolite.”

“Fuck you,” Meg whispers, having no energy to say it louder, but as the constant movement of his knife stops, she knows he heard her.“Fuck you,” she repeats.

“Well,” he scoffs, placing his other hand on his chin as though thinking about her response.“That doesn’t seem like a common name.For some reason I have a hard time believing that.Come on, just tell me.I’ll give you one more chance.”

Meg is tempted to take it with the pressure of the knife on her arm increasing and she thinks she feels a small trickle of blood pop out where he keeps the tip of his knife pressed against the inner part of her wrist.

But…

“Fine,” she mutters.“My first name is…” She can practically see Ghostface lean forward, his posture improving thinking he won so fast.“Fuck, and my last name is You.”

She doesn’t get the immediate anger she thinks she will get from him, but instead she hears him click his tongue from under his mask as he shakes his head.

“Darlin’, you’re only making this more fun for me the longer you fight,” he says like a warning, even though he barely gives her enough time to process what he says before he presses the knife into her arm, slowly running it down the length of her forearm, slicing her delicate skin open with searing burning pain that immediately makes Meg feel sick.

She starts thrashing against the pain, anything to take her arm away from this assault, but she can’t move, can’t do anything but kick at the ground in front of her and scream, trying to move around and relieve any of the white hot hot hot pain that tears through her arm with his knife.

He reaches her elbow and finally, with an audible sigh of relief, he stops, taking his knife away and cleaning it on his dark jeans as though it were covered in water, not her dark, red, sticky blood.

The relief she felt was short-lived as now the freshly opened five-inch wound on her arm now stings and burns like acid as blood comes pouring down her arm, dripping on the floor and down on her clothes.

“You fucking bastard, you coward…” Meg begins to say, not realizing exactly the words that come from her mouth as she stares at her bleeding arm, trying to lessen the pain in any way that she can, shifting from one side to the other, but nothing works.

It hurts so bad she feels like she will throw up again, but she doesn’t, so she grits her teeth and keeps talking.

“The only way you can hurt people is with them tied up, you fucking coward.You’re sick…you’re…”

“Ah, ah, ah, are you sure you want to continue that sentence?” He asks, grabbing a hold of her left hand, already gripping her ring finger between the wall and his knife.

No…

No please…

Meg’s breathing picks up as she closes her mouth, not daring to say anything else to insult him as flashes of the Clown come to mind, and how he crudely cut their fingers off in trials where he decided to kill them himself…

The pain with that never got easier, and the feeling of cold metal cutting through, scrapping against bone was something she never wanted to experience.

Not again.

Not here.

“That’s a good girl,” he practically purrs out.“So, your name, Sweetheart,” he says pressing the knife further on her finger building pressure that she never knew could have existed.

At least when the Clown did it, it was fast but this…this is excruciating.

He keeps pressing onto her finger until she can practically feel the skin pop and blood start to pour, and he keeps going, pressing on nerves and muscle and bone.

“Stop, stop please,” she begins to beg as the pain grows more and more intense within her hand that she begins to panic.The pain is unreal as white and black specks decorate her vision from the pain and she feels like she is going to pass out.

“Just gotta answer the question and I’ll stop,” he says nonchalantly as though he were talking about the weather or his favorite sports team.

That alone would be enough to make her sick if she wasn’t in absolute agony at that moment.

Blood begins to pour from her hand, matching the leaking red blood from her other arm as she struggles against his grip, only making it worse. 

“Please…” she pleads.

“Your name, it’s so simple.”

She hesitates, breathing in deep trying to control the pain, but it does nothing as she begins to hyperventilate, no matter how hard she tries not to, and she kicks the ground in front of her, wanting to kick at him, but he’s too far away, she can’t reach him and he is only making the pain worse so then….

“Meg! My name is Meg! Now please!”

“Last name too, sweetheart.”

“Thomas! My name is Meg Thomas ple-e-e-ase…” she stutters writhing against his knife, but at this point she can practically feel her finger dangling from the joint, not completely attached and not detached, but just…there.There is a bit of relief when he stops pressing, but the pain still throbs through her whole body, making her muscles spasm. 

“Well, Meg Thomas, I’m Danny Johnson.It’s nice to meet you” he says with one sudden movement, pressing the blade straight through her finger onto the wall with a metallic clang, as her finger bounces to the floor beside her.

With horror, Meg doesn’t react for a second, seeing and feeling it all happen in slow motion, but as soon as her ring finger touches her leg and bounces to the floor, she screams.

She doesn’t even know how long she screams for, all she knows is that she screams, her lungs pressing all the air from them, reverberating out of her stretched mouth into the room as all she feels is pain and humiliation and shame.

Shame at giving in, and shame at showing this emotion in front of him because this is something he should have never seen, not this close, not this personal. 

Within trials, when someone dies, it is a quick process and the killers, and Ghostface, need to always be on guard, but here, here he can just watch her, bask in the feelings of her pain and hopelessness.

And she admitted her name…she thought she could handle more.She said she’d fight, but while the knife was pressed to her finger, nothing went through her mind except for the fact that she wanted the pain to stop.

She thought she could handle this…

Finally opening her eyes, she looks at Ghostface - no - Danny Johnson before her, if that is even is his real name.She feels almost sick calling him that, so she settles on sticking with Ghostface in her mind.

Disconnect herself from him, but he can’t disconnect from her.He will know he is torturing a human being, and she…well she can feel she has some control by refusing to call him by his actual name, if that means anything.

As Meg looks into his blank mask, he chuckles again.

“Ah, see, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Easy peasy.”

Fuck you.

“I did tell you I’m a fair man.Tell me your name, I’ll tell you mine.So now lets move onto some more, shall I dare, exciting stuff, now that we are on the same page?”

Meg doesn’t respond, doesn’t move. 

“What was that? Nothing? No smart ass remark, or oh so rude comment to my own character? Wow, didn’t think you’d give up that easily.”

Meg didn’t give up, she just wants the pain to stop, wants this to end.

She’s tired already and she just wants to be left alone.

As though reading her mind in the worst way possible, Ghostface begins to laugh once more, a deep low laugh that sends chills through Meg, as he still grips the same knife, smeared with blood.He brings the knife up to her hand, which makes Meg panic, shuffling as best as she can away from him and letting out a scream, her finger and arm still radiating and throbbing with pain, she doesn’t want any more, but he doesn’t listen.He never listens.

So he brings the knife to her skin like earlier, pressing on it so gently it doesn’t break the skin as he runs it down her other uncut arm, and then around to the front of her neck.She swallows heavily, attempting to swallow the access vomit and bile and saliva that fills her mouth and with one swift movement, he cuts down her white shirt, exposing her bra and stomach to him with from the torn fabric.

No…

No please, not this…

Anything but this…

“No,” she manages to blurt out as he uses the tip of his knife to peel away her sticky shirt that stuck to her skin uncomfortably with both blood and sweat.She is still wearing a bra, but him seeing more skin is almost too much right now.

But he doesn’t listen as he draws a faint red line with the tip of his knife from her collarbone all the way down between her breasts, down her stomach, and catching on the hem of her pants.

He stops as Meg manages to scoot away despite the growing pain in her arms and hand, and he stares at her for a moment to where she has no idea what to expect next.

Suddenly her hands come thumping down to her sides, and it takes her a moment to realize that Ghostface cut the rope that tied her hands up, and that brings a whole new wave of pain to her arms at the sudden movement.

After the initial shock, she cradles her still bleeding arms to her, covering herself up as best as she can while also now trying to stop the bleeding and absolute pain that radiate up and down both of her arms.

Hearing Ghostface take in a deep breath, she expects the worst sentence to come from his mouth, only to be interrupted by footsteps upstairs.

“Oh…visitors!” Danny jumps up at the sound, the vibration causing the small light to swing just slightly to and fro, making the shadows of both Meg and Danny dance across the blood soaked room. 

Meg groans on the floor, in too much pain to react fully as she still tries to push herself up into a sitting position until her body screams otherwise.

Cold smooth concrete…

Her cheek rests against what seems like the one spot on the ground that hasn’t been sullied by her own bodily fluids, and it remains cold, an ice pack, something to keep her grounded to what is happening around her.

The footsteps grow quieter for a moment, before growing louder just outside the door leading to the room she is in, and her eyes widen with panic, fear, absolute terror at thinking about who could possibly be coming in.

No…please…she can’t handle any more…

It hurts…everything fuckin’ hurts and thinking that it could go on is enough to send shockwaves of horror and panic through her, clenching her chest and stomach.Thrashing against the ground, Meg manages to wiggle back, leaving her one cold spot as her back hits the farthest wall from the door.

Danny beats whoever it is to the door as he throws it open, only to find no one standing on the other side, so he waits, impatiently tapping his boot on the floor as though waiting for a pizza, not waiting for someone to come help make Meg’s life ever more unbearable than she ever thought possible.

Soon though the footsteps grow so loud, she can practically feel each step inside her chest as she lays on the ground, concentrating all of her energy on breathing in and out, not sure if she can even do anything else.

“Ah! I didn’t expect you so soon.Someone’s eager aren’t they?”

There is no response to his probing questions as the mystery figure comes into view and any sliver, any cell of hope Meg had disappears into thin air as she sees the shiny metal come into view first, followed by the body of the Trapper, walking in on her bleeding, broken, and whimpering on the ground. 

She thought Danny was bad, but with the Trapper being almost twice his size, she can almost imagine what he can do, but she keeps her mind from going there.Instead she tried to detach itself, protect itself from the pain and humiliation that is sure to come soon now that there is someone else here, someone else that she has spent years evading, trying to hide, and never succeeding.

Even to this day, she has issues going against the Trapper with his damn bear traps that litter the ground and blend in like grass.A phantom spasm radiates through her ankle and up her leg thinking about the sharp, deathly bear traps, but then a deep voice interrupts her thoughts.

“What is this?”

Meg could scoff, could laugh, if the situation weren’t so serious and she didn’t feel like her chest would implode on itself if she were to even breath a laugh.She wouldn’t be a “this”. 

An object.

Something that doesn’t matter.

What is this, she repeats in her mind remembering that the Trapper called her a “this”.She won’t forget that.

“Why, whatever do you mean? I told you earlier that I got one of the pretty ones, didn’t I? I wanted to show her off before I had too much fun with her, ya now, the usual.”

Meg’s stomach twists wanting to throw up all over again.

“You said you had a surprise, and then threatened to drag it over to me if I didn’t come see it myself.What else would bring me here?” The Trapper says keeping his face directed towardsMeg even though he is clearly talking to Danny.The Trapper keeps his mask on, so Meg can’t even tell what he looks like underneath, if there even is an underneath, and she most certainly can’t understand his expressions without being able to see him.

If she thought correctly, it sounded like he wasn’t impressed, he didn’t want to be there, but within the small timeframe that she has spent with Danny, that seems impossible.

All killers would probably want to do this should they have the chance, right?After everything the survivors do…to survive…she knows it causes the killers grief, that much is obvious. 

There are times that the killers are lenient, let them go, and then the next time she sees them, they are covered in more gouged out injuries, more blood, more inhumane suffrage.

But she has never seen that with Ghostface, with Danny.He is always clean, so abnormally clean and human-looking, she has to wonder why.

Or maybe now she knows; he likes being there, and that might mean more than Meg thinks.He likes killing, and the Entity, or whatever it is keeping them there, doesn’t punish him.Instead, it lets him do what he wants in exchange to never defy it.

It makes Meg’s stomach churn and her face burn as her eyes narrow, staring at the Trapper, waiting for whatever his choice will be in this matter.

“Well now, that doesn’t sound like me.I graciously invite my friends because I feel they may want to see what I’m investing my time into.”

The Trapper remains silent, his heavy frame moving up and down in time with his breathing before he speaks, “Even if I was here to see what you’re…’investing your time into’, what is the point?”

Ghostface stops, puts a hand to his chin in a theatrical movement, and looks at the ground, still tapping his foot as though thinking of a good response.

“You’re right.It’s not like I would share…” he pauses and then looks at Meg, “unless you had a good price for her.”

Meg’s whole body writhes as best as it can in response to that, as her bones grind against the floor and her body soaks in lost blood.She can’t think of that possibility, no…she just wants to get back to the campfire.Go back home.Go anywhere else but within a killer’s mercy and then…

The Trapper shakes his head.No sound comes from underneath the mask, but the silence makes Meg pause for a moment, expecting the absolute worst case scenario.

“Well, I was joking, but glad to see what you’d consider an offer should I make one someday, but this one is mine after all,” Ghostface purrs, looking back at Meg on the ground, “I was hoping for more of a reaction from you at least.Come on, give me something, I’m trying to be your friend here.I know how you like -“

“You know absolutely nothing about me and what I may or may not like,” the Trapper interrupts, his voice erupting from within his so loud Meg’s ears rattle.“I’ll ask again, there must be another reason you asked me here.What is it?”

Ghostface tilts his head and finally looks away from Meg, “You can’t be that dense, can you? I was hoping that somewhere in that massive head of yours there would be some common sense.”

“I can leave just as easily-“

“And leave your best friend when he is being so generous as so share something so private and personal? I don’t share my toys with just anyone, you should feel honored that I’m trying to get you to like me, big guy.”

The Trapper, breathing heavily now, shakes his head, and as much as his body language wants to tell Meg that even he has no interest in her bloodied body, the smile etched into his mask says something else completely as she blinks back tears, trying to look anywhere but at the two of them as they seem to bicker without realizing she can still hear them.

The Trapper finally looks away from Meg and at Ghostface, taking a small step towards him with his shadow growing even bigger against the wall behind them.

“I need to talk to you outside.Privately.”

Ghostface looks up at the Trapper and instead of being intimidated by the hulking man in front of him, he simply lets out a dark chuckle and shook his head.

“Anything you need to say to me, you can say in front of my lil’ pet here.”

If Meg could open her mouth and be assured that blood and vomit wouldn’t come spilling out, she would have laughed, screamed, backtalked, anything, but instead she just stares at him, her nostrils flared as her breathing picks up at the word “pet”.

The Trapper doesn’t react for a moment before talking, his voice low, still trying to hide whatever it is from Meg.

“You know she can’t be here.I don’t give one single fuck about you, but you know this is a bad idea for everyone involved,” the Trapper hisses gesturing over to Meg. 

Her pure terror at having the Trapper in here slowly turned into something else, something resembling relief as it creeped so slowly through her chest like honey as she stares at him.

She knows he isn’t doing it for her sake, that much is obvious, but he is trying to get her out and away from the true monster in the room.

Ghostface is silent for a few seconds and within that silence, Meg is foolish enough to think that maybe he is considering what the Trapper was saying, but all of that is crushed the moment he waves his hand flippantly in the air.

“I think you just have some pent up tension you need to get rid of somehow, big guy.I found my way, go find one of your own.They’re surprisingly easy to control,” Ghostface says before turning to Meg, “Aint that right, Sweetheart?”

_Fuck you fuck you fuck you._

Meg doesn’t say anything, she just spits out the continuous blood that leaks into her mouth from where she assumes she bit her tongue and cheek at while he was making her cry and bleed.

“No, this isn’t right and I refuse to be a part of your twisted nonsense,” The Trapper says, turning so his back is towards Meg as he is ready to push open the heavy door to leave.He places one giant hand on the doorknob but pauses when Ghostface speaks again.

“I could just kill her.”

“And why would that matter to me?” The Trapper says, hand still on the doorknob but even from where Meg is on the ground, she can see his shoulders and neck tense.

“If you’re so worried about what we’re doing here, I could just kill her.Get it over with.Do you think that she’ll go back to the campfire? Or-“

“I’m not worried about her or you.I only need to worry about myself, and if your inability to keep to yourself puts me in harm’s way, I will have no hesitation to handle things on my own.”

“Aww, come on, did I hurt Evan’s wittle feelings?”

_Evan?_

That was enough to make the Trapper let go of the doorknob and within the blink of an eye he shoves Ghostface roughly against the wall causing a loud echo to reverberate around the room.Meg flinches at the sound as she watches the scene unfold in front of her, not sure what she should be feeling in this moment other than terror and pain.

But at least Ghostface is distracted with something right now, something that isn’t her, and as much as she doesn’t want to, she silently has to owe it to the Trapper for taking him off of her even if it wasn’t a conscious decision.

“I’ve told you never to call me that.Now if I ever see or hear from you, you pathetic little man, I won’t hesitate to kill you myself.Then we can see if you come back or if you stay dead.I prefer the later,” Evan’s deep voice fills Meg’s head as he emphasizes his point by smacking Ghostface’s back against the concrete wall once more.

“Okay, fine,” Ghostface raises his arms on either side of him in surrender, “I can tell you’re in a mood, we’ve had our lovers quarrels before, I won’t take this personally.”

The Trapper stands there, gripping the front of Ghostface’s sweater so tight, Meg thinks that he might rip a hole in it, but after a few beats of him panting heavily, he lets the smaller man go, throwing him to the side. 

With one last look behind him at Meg he leaves slamming the door behind him, leaving her alone once more with the real threat.

“Well, that was exciting.Sorry for his attitude, darling.I was hoping maybe seeing you could make him not so moody,” Ghostface whines dramatically slumping down on the floor with his back on the wall across from Meg. 

“Why,” Meg starts saying, her words coming out from her mouth with a harsh croak, “why would seeing me do anything?”

“I suppose that is a good question.I’m just trying to get him on my side.You see, he’s never liked me, though I don’t know why, I’m a likable guy, right?” He holds up a finger and shakes his head, “No, don’t answer that.I know you’ll come around in enough time.But for our friend, and you, doll, all I can say is that it would be wise to be on my good side.”

“So you’re just trying to impress him? Get him to like you?” Meg coughs, pain squeezing her lungs, “By what? Torturing me?”

Ghostface scoots across the floor so he’s a lot closer to Meg now, and immediately her muscles tense up sending shooting waves of pain through her whole body as she presses herself more into the wall wanting to disappear, mold into the concrete, anything to get away from him.

He stops when he is so close to her, she can almost make out the faint outline of his face behind the black fabric of the eyes on the mask. 

_So there is a man underneath there._

“You know, I’m hurt that you’d think that this is only to impress someone else,” he raises up a gloved hand and grips her chin, digging his fingers into her jaw so hard, she lets out a yelp, while his other hand comes up to her cheek.He slowly runs the back of his pointer finger down her temple and over her cheek, a gentle stroke reminiscent of an old lover, that sends uncomfortable shivers down Meg’s spine and makes her hair stand on edge.“I have my reasons to allow him in here, but for now, just know that you’re mine. You’ll come to realize this and maybe even appreciate it someday.Because after all, Sweetheart, no matter what I decide to do, you’re stuck with me, and fortunately enough here, we only have forever to spend together.”


End file.
